To Break It Back Down
by Irymia
Summary: One day Morty walks in on Rick doing something... unpredictable. My version of what could possibly have happened after the season 3 finale, given how the characters have changed.


Morty was sitting on the couch and clicking the channels on the remote. He looked relaxed, an expression of absolute insouciance on his face. The reason for his good mood wasn't excellent shows on TV—in fact, there wasn't anything excellent on at all since Rick had mounted off the interdimensional cable the other day. Morty was smiling because his family was finally together.

It had been only a couple of days since Beth reunited with Jerry and the latter moved back into the house, but the changes were already perceptible. Mom had begun smiling more and stopped drinking so much, Summer had ceased to leave the food on the dinner table untouched, and Dad was mooching around again, in his attempts to start a conversation or give his unsolicited advice. Morty didn't mind the last part at all: They were a full family again… Maybe not the happiest one, maybe dysfunctional and unbalanced, but family. And he did value this reconciliation with all his heart.

The only person who appeared to be not satisfied with the change in status quo was Rick. He was lingering in the garage all the time and hadn't called Morty on an adventure since the incident with the President. The boy worried about that, of course, but he hoped that the older man just needed some time to adjust and overcome it, and then he would be back to his usual self again...

Today was such a beautiful day. They all had a nice breakfast together, chatting and laughing at Jerry's nonsensical jokes, and then he and Beth had gone out on a date. Summer was off too for a rendezvous with her friends, which she hadn't done in weeks, so now some feeling of uncanny peacefulness permeated the quiet house. Morty, who hadn't been given any homework or errands to run, was definitely enjoying it and vegging out in front of the TV with a pack of corn flakes.

However, without the interdimensional cable the programs the regular TV offered appeared to be pretty insipid to his liking. Soap operas, clichéd sitcoms, cartoons for kids… After flicking through each channel twice, Morty had grown bored, so he decided to go ask Rick to return the cable. Why had Rick uninstalled it, anyway?

"Rick?" He knocked on the garage door. "Rick?"

No one answered. It was weird since he had heard some sounds from the garage earier. Carefully, Morty pushed the door ajar and peeked in.

Rick was standing in the corner of the room, sweeping stuff off of the shelves and racks. With an armful of his inventions and tools, he staggered to his spaceship, piled everything inside, and then repeated the process. The room was already almost devoid of its usual sci-fi item mess.

Morty stepped in, very unsure of what was going on. "Rick? What are you doing?"

Rick cast him a brief glance. "I-Isn't it obvious, M-Morty? I'm le-UURP-leaving."

"What? Where are you going? And why are you gathering all your stuff?" Inquired the boy, genuinely surprised. It wasn't a rare occasion that Rick went on adventures without him, but why would he need to take all his things with him?

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because it's _my_ shit?" Rick's voice was full of vitriol as he feigned surprise. "And because I'll be needing it, and because I'm not gonna leave my inventions to that fucking idiot Jerry? What, what kind of stupid question is that, Morty?"

He began cleaning out the desk's drawers, not even looking in his grandson's direction. His lab coat was stained with dirt and something that suspiciously resembled vomit, but he didn't seem to care.

Morty just stood there, blinking, until the realization hit him. "Wait, w-what? Y-you're saying that you're leaving… us?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Wow, Morty, so dra-AURP-amatic, just wow. Something Summer would say, but whatever." He knelt to empty the lowest drawers.

Morty stared, dumbfounded. The cable issue was completely and utterly forsaken.

"W-what?" He stuttered eventually. "Why, Rick? I-I don't understand… Did you tell Mom? Dad? Summer? Anyone?"

There was really something alarming about the garage devoid of its science-related contents. The last time it looked this empty was when Rick had been sent to jail.

Irritated by the questions, Rick groaned. "N-no, I didn't tell 'em, Morty. Now fuck off and stop distracting me!" He heaped an armful of stuff into his vehicle again, still not looking at his shocked grandchild, who by no means had suspected the peaceful morning would end like this.

"But, but… but you can't leave, Rick! You can't leave us!"

"Oh, so now you're telling me what I can and can't do? Huh?"

It was… it was just so… Morty couldn't believe it, couldn't believe the calmness in Rick's voice. Of course, the old man did crazy things sometimes, beyond an average human's comprehension, but for some reason Morty hadn't even thought he would just leave them like this one day. Even Morty himself had once chosen to return when he had a chance not to. He could have had everything he thought a happy and healthy life required: a job, confidence, sexy girlfriend, full independence...

But he had opted to reunite with his toxins again. He intentionally hadn't hung up the phone. He returned to Rick and the rest of his family.

"Rick! Stop!" The boy ran over to the ship, blocking Rick's way so that the man couldn't move further toward his desk. "What… what the hell is going on? Why would you leave all of a sudden? You can't leave now!"

" _Now_?" Rick's expression suddenly darkened as he gazed down at Morty. He clenched his teeth. "W-w-what do you mean 'now', M-Morty? Now, when this retard of your father is back again, or what? What do you fucking mean 'now', Morty?!"

The boy shook a bit from the fury in his voice and made a cautious step back.

"Wait, so this, this is it? You're leaving just because my dad is back? I-I thought you didn't care about him!"

Rick tried to make his way toward his desk but Morty wouldn't let him. His arms spread wide, he stood there, resolute and plucky, and scowled at the other man.

"Shit, I don't give a fuck about Jerry!" Rick spat out.

"So why are you leaving then? R-Rick, you can't just go like that without even explaining anything!"

The lack of understanding was clear on Morty's outraged face when he shouted that, but after, something suddenly clicked in his mind. The events of the past week gathered together in his head in an instant, like pieces of a puzzle, in a clear picture that suddenly explained everything.

"Wait… are you leaving because… because the roles have swapped?"

For a moment, something changed in Rick's expression, then he spat out again: "F-fuck outta here, Morty!"

Slowly, the boy lowered his arms as the realization was dawning on him. "That's it," he said in a calmer voice, never looking away from his grandfather's incensed face, "you're not the man in the house anymore… and I chose mom and dad and Summer instead of you in that incident… Does that mean you're… hurt?"

Rick's brow noticeably flinched at the statement. In the next moment, he dashed forward and in one strong stroke of his arm threw Morty out of his way.

The boy flew a few feet until he hit the concrete and wincined from the pain.

It hurt.

"R-Rick…"

Rick spun around.

Morty was lying on the floor, his face all screwed up, and his eyes… they looked like the eyes of someone who's just been betrayed, and Rick's own eyes flew wide when he realized what he'd done. He'd raised his hand against Morty.

All his anger ebbed away all of a sudden. And when his grandson, rubbing his bruised butt, lifted his head towards him, Rick was slouched more than usual, and his expression was so openly bitter that the boy blinked in astonishment.

The spiky-haired man looked down at him, whom he'd tossed on the floor. He'd never done this before, not to Morty. What had he become? What must he have become to do something like this to his own grandson?

"R-Rick?" Morty asked in a muted voice.

Rick looked almost remorseful. For a moment, the boy thought he would come over and help him get up, but he just turned around and resumed picking up things, not saying anything, as though a single spoken word could ruin everything entirely and therefore was to be avoided by any means necessary.

Quietly, Morty got to his feet. He made two unsure steps forward; his butt still hurt but for some reason, it didn't bother him anymore. He approached the knelt-over Rick from the back and trailed his fingertips along his lab-coated shoulder timidly.

The man flinched, but didn't turn.

"Rick," Morty said again. He had a good view of the man's disheveled blue hair from where he was standing. "I know it's a hard time for you… you're too selfish and don't like my dad, and mom fell in love with him again but… please don't go."

His back still facing Morty, Rick got up, holding some robots. "I've already made a decision, Morty."

He headed for the spaceship, unusually quiet. It was almost physically painful for Morty to see him like this, and some bad, very bad feeling crept into his twisted stomach, making him quiver with sudden anxiety. He sprang forward and grabbed his grandpa's sleeve. His voice was high-pitched.

"No, Rick, y-you can't leave! Y-y-you can't run away from your problems like this! A-a-and, and you can't abandon us just because we don't tiptoe around you like we used to! You can't do this to us, we're your family!"

With Morty hanging on his sleeve, the older man stopped, though his gaze was still lowered.

"Family doesn't make sense, M-Morty."

"It does! And you know that! You can act like you don't give a shit but I know that deep down, you care about me, and Summer, and mom, Rick!"

"Y-yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night."

The words were spoken with such indifference and apathy, such deep despondency that slowly, Morty's hands let go of the lab coat, and Rick finally turned to face him. His expression was tired, with his eyes half-lidded and dark bags under them. Morty looked at him—almost beggingly. "Why do you have to always deny your feelings like that, Rick…?"

"M-Maybe because I was born this way, kid."

Morty stood there. He just stood and pictured a life without Rick… the empty garage… He imagined what it would be like to never laugh in the spaceship with his grandpa again, to never play video games or watch TV with him again, never marvel at his incredible inventions anymore. He envisioned a life completely devoid of Rick, his Rick, and something unpleasant, cold and sharp chained his chest tightly at the thought.

It was an atrocious feeling. Maybe he wasn't as dependent on Rick's appreciation as he used to be, but that didn't mean he didn't need him. Losing Rick wouldn't be like losing his best friend because Rick was more than that—he was a part of his family. And now he had to lose that part forever…

Drop. Drop.

Another damp trickle ran down Morty's cheek. His knees suddenly felt weak and he fell onto his shins, the telltale moisture accumulating in the corners of his eyes. He was crying, but he didn't care. He couldn't lose Rick, not again…

He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

"Why are you doing this to me… to us?"

"M-Morty?" Rick's voice above sounded unsure. "Why are you crying?"

Gasping, he flung his head up at him. With his face soaked with tears, his mouth twisted in the most bitter and hurt of all the expressions. "Stop pretending you don't understand, Rick. Why do you have to go when our family is finally together… I know it's your ego… you dislike Jerry and you like it only when everything goes your way but… but you're a part of my family, too!" Morty sobbed. "And we all need you… even if you don't need us that much."

His head dropped back again as he struggled to not cry. What would he do if Rick left them? He loved Mom, and Dad, and Summer, but he loved Rick too.

Rick towered over his grandson with one eyebrow raised in confusion.

He would never have thought Morty could throw such a tantrum over him. After all, he had never been a model grandparent, he had failed as a father, and he knew he often abused the kid. While a small part of him acknowledged he was somewhat attached to his grandchildren—otherwise he wouldn't have bothered to erase the bad memories Morty had about him—the other part, the superior one, knew that such feelings were toxic. The Detox Rick, easy to be manipulated by threatening his Morty, was an egregious example of that.

However, there was one thing Rick couldn't comprehend: Why would the kid be so distraught over his leaving like this? It looked pretty much as though he actually cared about his egoistic asshole of a grandpa, about his leaving, even after everything that had happened… Rick simply couldn't believe it, so he stood there over the knelt Morty, at a loss for words and tongue-tied all of a sudden. He knew there were lots of things he could be hated for, and he hated himself for them: for abandoning Beth, for lowering his guard and letting Birdperson die, and many, many others, but his grandkid's affection? He never merited that.

Rick looked around at his half-emptied garage and sighed. Morty was right: He had been fleeing from his problems for so long he himself had grown tired of it. He had to face them like a man and just get all this shit over with, even if that shit included Jerry.

His gaze slid off to his grandson. "R-relax, Morty," he wheezed. "I… I'm not leaving."

The boy on the floor threw his head up. "W-what?"

"I said I'm not leaving," Rick sighed, scratching his nape in a weary gesture. "I changed, changed my mind. I was just… just fucking with you."

Then he turned to his spaceship and began to unload it. Morty, who watched him with some odd astonishment and disbelief, wiped his face with a palm slowly. "W-wait, R-Rick, really? A-a-a-are… are y-you serious?"

"Fuck. Morty, do I have to repeat it? Yes, I am; looks like I have to put up with your shit for a while yet. I, I don't need your ass whining about everything like a baby."

Morty leapt up to his feet, blinking away the tears, and Rick felt awkward. He loathed any sentimental moments because he simply had no idea how he should behave, and the kid was being really emotional.

Morty watched his grandfather carry the stuff toward his desk, and a glimpse of hope popped up somewhere in his stomach, like the first March flower. Rick wasn't leaving…

"B-but, but you owe me this, Morty. You'll have to help me get all this shit back into place now. And that's, that's a lot of work, you little turd."

Morty dashed to the spaceship first, willing to comply, but then stopped, spun around and suddenly threw himself at Rick, flinging his arms over the older man's neck.

"Fuck!" Rick dropped the box he was holding, and tried to rip Morty's arms from his neck. "Damn it, Morty, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

But the boy only held onto him tighter. Having buried his damp face in the lab coat fabric, he evened his erratic breath and let the residual tears dry.

Rick felt scrawny and warm arms around him and sighed.

"I'm hugging you."

"I told you not to do that crap to me ever again! Get off of me, or you'll regret it!" Rick cried in an annoyed voice. Morty sniffed, not buying it.

"I just want you to know we love you, Rick. We really do. Please never leave us, okay?"

Rick eventually stopped resisting, since it'd proven pointless, and just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever Morty, now GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!"

This time the boy obeyed, letting go of him and jumping back on the floor. He couldn't believe that Rick would have left if he hadn't barged in on time… but now that didn't matter.

"S-stupid little shit…" Rick grunted. He didn't sound like he was actually irritated though, and Morty smiled, striding up to the ship to unload it.

His crazy, unpredictable, assholish grandpa wasn't leaving. He was staying.

And it was Rick and Morty again. Rick and Morty forever, for a hundred years or more...


End file.
